


Served Cold

by hexereii



Category: Fantastic Four, Fantastic Four (Movies 2005-2007), Fantastic Four (Movies)
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Hand Jobs, It is complicated, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Temperature Play, Torture, except not really torture cause he's not really harmed idk, from that scene in the movie lol, intense temperature play since it's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24155608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexereii/pseuds/hexereii
Summary: Based on that scene from the 2005 Fantastic Four movie where Doom has Reed tied up and is freezing him, since as someone on Twitter pointed out, it does very much look like Doom is getting off on all that (and in the comics, it's pretty clear that *Reed* is) ...well, an idea occurred to me I guess.
Relationships: Reed Richards/Victor von Doom
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Served Cold

**R** evenge. It was all he'd thought about, the past few weeks--making Reed pay for every indignity his actions had brought to Victor's doorstep, balancing out whatever cosmic accounting error had resulted in so many losses for him and so many wins for Richards himself, beginning with their little "accident" in space. If it was an accident at all. Victor found the possibility increasingly less likely the more he considered it, but no matter--he had the sneaky, spineless son of a bitch now, and payment was well past due.

Besides, there was something... freeing about his new existence. Once he'd realized what he was becoming and what it truly meant, Victor had felt oddly relieved; grateful, even, to be liberated from the banalities of human existence.

He was a monster. There was no need to pretend to be anything else, anymore.

The others had experienced transformations of their own, of course--but they'd refused their gifts while Victor only welcomed his. Considered it a blessing in disguise, privately--though that didn't let 'Mister Fantastic' off the hook.

Waiting for the subject of his hatred to finally stir, Von Doom fairly basked in the moment; letting the rage and breathtaking sense of injustice build as he watched ice gather at the tips of Reed's eyelashes. 

He'd always found Richards attractive, in a delicate sort of way. The temptation had been there for ages, but there was always the sense that he'd bruise too easily to be worth the phenomenal amount of effort and time required to convince him he might not be as straight as he clearly wanted to believe.

Instead, Victor had contented himself with keeping Reed in his place; sabotaging his work whenever he came too close to true success, luring away his former fiancée the second they parted company, rearranging his pawns until Richards had no choice but to come to _his_ company to seek help _in person._ Making Reed miserable was a pleasant diversion for him; a hobby, like flower arranging or collecting stamps.

In retrospect, studying him at rest, Victor had to admit that there might be an additional component to his interest in tormenting an old college rival than mere amusement.  
He knew at least that he didn't want him dead, unlike the other three--they were expendable. Richards was not.

According to the medical files he'd confiscated from the Baxter Building, the coolant being dumped into his suit's lining would hardly do more than make the man _uncomfortable_ \--and immobile, for a while.

Long enough that Victor could take care of the others without interruption, at least. And after that... well, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

** ** ** ** ** **

Reed moaned and opened his eyes with difficulty--why on earth was it so cold? Where was he? He couldn't feel his arms or hands and his head ached terribly.

Everything came back in a rush--the fight with Ben, the experiment failing, and... Victor.

Oh, god.

He was with Victor.

Absolutely nothing about that eased his mind.

** ** ** ** ** **

Curious, Doom thought, how he didn't notice the cold at all, even as a shimmer of white frost spread between his fingers and over the back of his hand... there was a mild tingling sensation but little else. Meanwhile, Reed's skin was turning an unhealthy shade of blue, his eyes wide and darting with panic.

Neither of them was technically human anymore, clearly--but he was still superior in an evolutionary sense, and that was a source of some satisfaction, at least.

Victor finished adjusting the tubes and stood, studying his masterpiece from a few inches away; Reed's hands tied behind his head where they couldn't interfere, his uniform zipped to the neck to keep the cold in--it was only fair, he'd stolen that suit from Doom himself--his face losing color by the second as ice crystals formed at the edges and high points.

Helpless.

It suited him nicely. 

** ** ** ** ** **

Reed couldn't make sense of what he was seeing, at first--they were in Victor's office, he recognized the room, but there was something... off about the man's face. It was obvious even in the shadows of his hood, the features were too rigid, and his skin caught the light too well.

If Reed could've shaken his head to clear his vision, that would have been something at least, if he wasn't on the verge of freezing to death in a bath of industrial refrigerant, jesus christ--obviously not fatal, which was startling in the extreme, but did Victor learn that before or after he'd rigged the whole thing up? Richards shuddered for reasons that had little to do with the cold. The man was clearly out of his mind. And he had Reed trapped. How long would it take anyone to find them here? What other surprises did Victor have in mind? And how many of those would he survive?

Speech was impossible. The most he could manage was a soft, nasally whine that unfortunately drew Victor's attention fully back to focus on him.

Wait.

...Was Victor wearing a _mask?_

** ** ** ** ** **

Euphoria, that was the word Von Doom was searching for; the sudden rush of giddiness, the sense of _elevation_ as he watched Richards react to the situation--  
\--but it wasn't complete, yet. Something was missing from this tableaux; hard to know what precisely--

Wrapping one hand around Reed's jaw, he tilted his head back and studied the man's expression as though looking for answers. In a sense, he was; whatever was lacking, it would be found there, Victor knew. The same unerring instinct that had guided his success for years now pointed him towards this, it would be foolish to ignore it.

** ** ** ** ** **

Reed wondered if Victor realized how difficult it was to breathe with his neck at this angle. Somehow, he doubted that would've made any difference at all. Hell, maybe that was the whole point--Victor's focus seemed to be narrowing in a way that didn't bode particularly well for him, and the grip on his jaw would easily have left a bruise if every blood vessel weren't constricted from cold. 

Behind the mask's sculpted slots, his eyes were the exact color of polished diopside; the natural form would have been too murky for comparison--Victor's eyes fairly gleamed and Reed found it difficult to look away from them. Then again, he'd always been a little hypnotic, in his own way. Magnetic--that was the term.

"Vic-" It hurt to speak. It hurt to take a breath or move or even think terribly hard for that matter, but he had to try and reach him, try to make him see reason. "Vic-tor--"

"You're spoiling the moment, Reed." The hand slid from his jaw to his throat and rested there for a second but did nothing else. Doom appeared to be... experimenting.

Gauging his reactions.

Reed gulped, and felt the cold pressure of Victor's palm against his Adam's apple. 

Vulnerable wasn't really the word for this feeling; he felt transparent. As if those polished-diopside-eyes could look straight through his outer defenses and read everything lurking beneath.

Not that Victor was any less obvious himself; those quick, unsteady breaths and pupils so wide there was hardly any iris visible told a very clear story all their own. Obviously he was enjoying this, but nothing about _that_ was surprising, really.

It also did nothing to ease his discomfort. Discovering that he and Victor were equally fucked up didn't exactly elevate his flagging self-esteem.

He made a weak effort to shake off the hand on his throat, but only managed to trigger a miserable round of chills that intensified until he couldn't even bring his eyes to focus. Whatever else had occupied his thoughts before even partially had been replaced by the cold; how cold he was and how much it hurt and how desperately he wanted to escape. There was no room for anything else and Reed began to wonder if his cognitive functions were somehow being slowed as well. Not a rational thought, he knew--

** ** ** ** ** **

Pressing closer, Victor watched the ice spread across Reed's skin and considered his options. staring into dark brown eyes that gradually frosted over and lost sight of him--it was deeply unrewarding, ultimately. This was a step in the plan, he felt certain of that, but...

Perhaps not the _first_ one.

Victor reached out to twist the valve, shutting off the coolant at the tank. After a quick examination of Reed's ice-coated features, he unzipped the front of his suit as well--there was still a heartbeat, he knew that much already, but the cold would take a while to dissipate without added measures.

Increase heartrate, circulation... 

A small, tight-lipped smile spread behind the mask. There were several ways to get Dr Richards' pulse racing on short notice, but only _one_ that truly appealed to him and in that choice, finally, his own needs and desires became clear.

Not only clear, but attainable.

Hands closing and opening at his sides, Victor let the charge build before raising them to Reed's chest--watching his expression closely and keeping the generated power self-contained enough that it only delivered a radiant warmth. Reed's white-dusted skin slowly developed a healthier tone and in his drive to expedite the process, Victor's control slipped microscopically--releasing a burst of crackling electricity just where his palm pressed down.

Reed gasped and Victor continued, massaging heat into stiff muscles and raising goosebumps everywhere his fingers traveled. Richards was clearly awake now, and alert, and squirming in anticipation of Victor's touch, his exposed skin a mixture of frosted paleness and splotchy, blushing red. 

Victor studied him with growing interest, buoyed by the sense of _rightness_ he felt.

Unlike most of the 'rich and famous,' he had never been prone to flings. He'd never been attached to any person of any gender and quite liked it that way. He was hardly a virgin, but... all of his past relationships had been impersonal, had lacked investment... He'd never felt drawn to any of them; never experienced the mesmerizing pull that guided him now. Energy sparked between them as the tips of Victor's fingers traced a set of stinging red lines down Reed's chest. Richards bit his lip to muffle the reaction but only ended up whining in the back of his throat until the worst of it faded--no harm done, not really, but it took a few seconds to fully recover from.

"If this is supposed to be torture--" Reed was too breathless for witty comments, and too flustered to finish whatever that one had nearly been anyway. Doom glanced in his direction briefly, but was too caught up in other pursuits to respond immediately.

His hand continued downward, sliding beneath the thin material of Reed's suit with a quick, practiced movement. There was no electrical charge now, but the biometallic skin was pleasantly warm in contrast to the lingering chill trapped by his uniform.

"Oh, it is," Victor said teasingly; Reed could hear the smile in his voice and hated that he was giving in anyway--doing exactly what Von Doom wanted. His quick, sharp breaths had become eager little sounds and he was lifting and straining to press himself into Victor's hand.

In response, Victor stopped completely, his palm flat against the skin as Reed's efforts grew more frantic.

"Please don't stop--" Gasped out in one quick breath. Victor looped one arm around Reed's waist and pulled him forward, Reed in turn arched against Victor, head back and lips parted, eyelids shuttered tightly as he focused every molecule on simply _hoping_ Victor would continue.

"Ah, ah. Eyes open."

Free hand buried in Reed's soft curls, Victor pulled his head farther back and held it there, watching every small response hungrily--the way his breathing accelerated, the way he gulped back little sounds of need, the way he gnawed at his own bottom lip for a distraction--and Reed stared back at him, first with eyes wide, then with a low-lidded stare of understanding.

"Doom. _Please_."

Warm, strong fingers wrapped tightly around his cock and Reed could do nothing but breathe and _bask_ for a second; he felt weighless and lightheaded, every nerve scoured and bare.

Even Victor's light, confident strokes were just this side of too much--he didn't even try to stifle a sharp moan or to keep himself still, he doubted he could've done either of those things anyway. As aroused as he was, finally having some form of relief almost hurt, but in the best way possible and Victor built the rhythm quickly, offering no chance to get his scattered thoughts together; Reed found himself babbling grateful nonsense mixed with soft pleas for more, sentence structures breaking down and coherence failing as the pace quickened.

"Victor--" he hadn't meant to say the name, especially not like that--low and eager and breathless--but Doom countered by pressing two fingers to his lips. Reed assumed it was an attempt to shut him up until the cold, metallic digits pressed in, demanding entry. He was still happy to oblige, sucking at the tips of his fingers and delighting in the weird, coppery taste of Victor's skin.

Reed immediately wondered what other parts of him may taste like; how they might feel against his tongue. What it would be like to accept any part of Doom's body inside his own.

His hips jerked haphazardly, and Victor's fingers withdrew just in time to let Reed's head fall back in a long, wordless moan. He only vaguely felt Victor's arm curl around him as his body went rigid; every other sense had failed in a burst of blinding white and he was perfectly, deliriously fine with that.

** ** ** ** ** **

For his part, Doom was delighted by the shattering of Reed's self-control. By the way his cheek pressed hard against Victor's neck and the soft, shameless little whimpering sounds he made at the end. By the overall *look* of him, too--hopelessly disheveled, his uniform undone down the front, his face flushed a deep shade of pink from all the exertion, damp curls tufted up in every direction...

Irresistible.

** ** ** ** ** **

Reed had barely recovered when Victor pulled him loosely to his feet, freeing his hands--though he left very little time for the sensation to return to those--then pushing him roughly onto his knees.

It was unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome--Reed stared up at him, dazed by the entire situation; strange that he'd been reasonably sure this man was likely to at least _try_ to murder him. Strange that he wasn't sure he was out of the woods regarding that yet, either. But for now, there was only Victor's obvious need, present in his quick breaths and the clumsy way his hand sough purchase in Reed's hair. There was the plush, yielding carpet against his knees and dizzy anticipation as he watched Victor free his erection; no further guidance or encouragement was needed from there, though of course, Victor gave it anyway. Catching Reed's wrists, he managed to hold both together in one hand and left them to one side, out of the way. It left him one less tool to work with for Doom's sake, but evidently he considered that a reasonably trade-off for whatever he got out of the illusion of physical control.

A light tug revealed to Reed that yes, he could slip free without any real trouble. He opted not to, focusing instead on swirling his tongue around the tip of Victor's dick and playfully mouthing it before taking it in completely; moving much faster than he typically would simply because he knew how little patience the man likely had left.

"Honestly, Richards--" There was something impossibly sensual in hearing Victor's polished speech turn so breathless and ragged at the edges, even as he tried for a mock-disapproving tone. "What would _Susan_ think?" Reed shivered as long, gunmetal fingers clenched in his hair. 

** ** ** ** ** **

Really, it was impossible not to wonder where he'd learned such a thing--the enthusiasm would have been more than enough, but the way he moved in such perfect sync with the pace of Victor's thrusts, the way his tongue ground rhythmically along the underside, the occasional slip of teeth that was too well-timed to be accidental... it was hardly the sort of talent he would've expected from his old friend.

Von Doom hissed at the effort of keeping silent as Reed's tongue flicked eagerly across the tip, nearly losing his handle on the moment altogether.

"Now you're just... showing off," he panted, shifting his grip to the back of Reed's head in an effort to still the steady, practiced bobs that were making focus impossible. "Reed--"

Victor's rhythm deteriorated and Reed substituted his own, delighting in the long exhales punctuated by sharp indrawn breaths and the sudden flood of heat as Victor came. He swallowed quickly; there really was no other choice, the unrelenting grip on his hair kept him from retreating.

Though really, he'd never wanted to anyway.

Only gradually did Doom let go, adjusting his clothing again as if this were... more or less... normal. 

"I fully intend to kill the other three," he shared quietly. "But we've always worked well together, haven't we, Reed? I see no compelling reason why that should change--think of what we could accomplish now!"

Reed sat back on the floor as Victor tidied himself, legs folded bonelessly underneath him.

"You mean, 'let's join forces and take over the world together?' That kind of thing? Tempting, but no."

His flippancy hadn't gone unnoticed, but Victor was still too relaxed to be properly angry just yet.

"We'll revisit that offer later. For now... well, where were we?"


End file.
